


Breathe With Me

by Fictionista654



Series: Ealdor Books [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: When a thunderstorm triggers a panic attack, Arthur takes refuge in the only open store: Ealdor Books.





	Breathe With Me

“Thank, God,” muttered Arthur, pushing into the bookstore. The storm might have been swirling furiously outside, but in here, it was toasty and calm. And empty. From what Arthur could see, the only other person in the shop was the grungy guy reading behind the counter, who looked up in surprise when Arthur entered.

“A customer, in this weather?” said the man. Irish accent, black hair. Two of Arthur’s weaknesses, but he couldn’t do more than wince. His heart was still racing, and it felt like his pulse was throttling him. His work clothes, including the cashmere sweater from Morgana, were soaked through, just from walking through the parking lot from his car. He could feel the chill in his bones. The guy at the register must have decided Arthur wasn’t worth the effort of conversation, because he turned back to his battered paperback. 

Arthur, not being much for reading, hadn’t ever been inside the store before, though he saw it on his drive to and from the office every day. It turned out that the buttery light was just as inviting within the store than from behind the windows. It was on the small side, but it did have two tiny leather armchairs by the fiction section. Arthur would have preferred somewhere more private, like a bathroom, but he didn’t see one, and he couldn’t ask. So he collapsed into the nearest chair.  At least it wasn’t within the eye line of the counter.

Putting his head between his knees, Arthur tried to concentrate on his breathing. His vision kept zooming in and out, like some sort of manic optical illusion, but when he shut his eyes, all he felt was the storm. He stared down at the blue-green carpet between his feet and sternly told himself not to cry. At least, with the lights on in here, he couldn’t see the lightning. But, with his earbuds forgotten on his desk, he couldn’t do anything about the thunder. A particularly loud boom shocked a gasp out of him. 

 _Please,_ he prayed, _please don’t let him have heard_. Unfortunately, there was the soft sound of trainers against carpet, and a pair of beaten-up running shoes appeared next to Arthur’s brown leather loafers.

“You all right mate?” Lovely. The cashier sounded concerned. The last thing Arthur needed.

“Yep,” he managed. Another clap of thunder, and he jumped. Somehow, his heart got even faster. His chest was probably black-and-blue from the beating it was getting. His lungs spasmed, sucking in air at an unsustainable rate, and his head and neck ached from the hyperventilation.

“You sure about that?” said the cashier. “Because it seems to me that you’re having a panic attack.”

The rushing in Arthur’s ears got worse. He thought the cashier might still be talking, but he couldn’t make anything out. It felt like the storm was inside him, ripping up his organs. There was a warm pressure on his shoulder, and Arthur jerked away so violently that he almost fell out of the chair. Immediately, the pressure left.

“…so sorry…promise…won’t touch you…” It was like a bad phone connection, except the cashier was standing _right there_ , and Arthur was just malfunctioning too badly to listen. He curled in on himself, finally closing his eyes. Somewhere, very far away, the cashier’s voice continued talking. Arthur’s lungs tired, forcing him to breathe more slowly, and it got a little easier to hear the cashier.

“Breathe with me, yeah? A big one in….a big one out. Big one in…big one out. That’s it, you’ve got this.” 

Arthur followed the cashier’s exaggerated breathing sounds. After a while, his lungs stopped jerking out of control, and he mostly managed to get his breaths to be as slow as the employee's. Now, though. Now the mortification obliterated him. He kept his head down longer than he needed to, even when the panic attack had mostly faded away. But he couldn't put off the inevitable. 

When Arthur sat all the way up, he was shaking, and his teeth were chattering. His lips and fingers were numb. “S-sorry,” he said. The cashier’s face was right in front of his, frowning a little in consternation.

“How do you feel?”

“Embarrassed,” Arthur admitted. His eyes burned. Oh, for Christ’s sake. He was crying. With a trembling hand, he wiped the tears from his eyes. “I d-don’t like thunder storms.” Jesus. His voice was trembling like a leaf. Annoyingly, the cashier didn’t show any sign of going away. He was an odd-looking fellow, with sharp cheekbones and a dimple that flashed flashed by his chin. Arthur couldn’t help but feel comforted by the friendliness of his face. 

“Let’s get you something warm to drink, okay?” said the cashier and waited patiently for Arthur to fumble to his feet. They went through an unmarked door into a little kitchen area. The white tile floor was a bit grimy, and the faucet had rust stains, but besides that, everything seemed clean enough. It was even warmer here than in the store itself, and Arthur’s head prickled as his body relaxed. Taking the proffered seat, Arthur watched the cashier flip on the electric kettle and take two mugs down from the cabinet. 

“We have black tea, coffee, and cocoa,” the cashier said. 

“Probably shouldn’t have caffeine right now,” said Arthur, looking down at the wooden table-top.

“Cocoa it is then. We’ll have to wait for the water to heat up first, though.” The cashier sat across from Arthur and propped his elbows on the table. “I’m Merlin, by the way.”

“Arthur.” Now that there wasn’t anything else to focus on, he was almost regretting his decision to seek refuge here. No, he didn’t really mean that. The alternatives were continue driving home or wait it out in the parking lot. Both options made him shudder.

“I’m sorry about touching you without permission, earlier. When I put my hand on your shoulder.”

Arthur shrugged, uncomfortable. “It’s fine. I overreacted.”

“No,” said Merlin, “I totally get it. I don’t like being touched, either.” Arthur wasn’t really sure how to respond to that.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” 

“The store?” Merlin glanced around, though they were only in the kitchen. “Yeah, I love it. It’s my uncle’s; I’ve been pulling shifts here for ages. Since I was fourteen, I think. So that would be, wow, almost ten years.” 

“I don’t really like reading,” said Arthur. As soon as he saw Merlin’s face, he knew he’d made a mistake. What was he thinking, telling a bookstore employee that he didn’t like to read? He might as well have doused himself in chum and jumped into shark-infested waters.

“Why not?” said Merlin. Not judgmentally, as Arthur had feared, but as if he were genuinely curious. 

“I just don’t see a point in living someone else’s life when you’ve got your own to focus on,” said Arthur. “I don’t watch TV either,” he added, suspecting it would lessen the blow. 

“You don’t watch TV?” said Merlin, now in real disbelief. “But everyone I know watches TV.” 

“And now you know someone who doesn’t.” The tea kettle went off then, and Merlin went to fix the cocoa. 

“So what do you do for relaxation, then?” said Merlin when he came back with their mugs. 

“Dunno.” Arthur felt put on the spot. “Sometimes I go out and get a drink with friends.” 

“Okay, but when you’re at home. Like right before bed. What do you do then?”

Arthur mentally walked through his evening routine. “Finish up work, mostly.” Seeing Merlin’s pitying expression, he added, defensively, “I like my job.”

Merlin shoved back his fringe and shook his head. “Arthur, Arthur. This is so sad.”

“How is it any different from you reading?” said Arthur. “That’s your job, isn’t it?”

For a moment, Merlin looked stumped. “Well, what’s your job?”

Damn. “Data entry.” Arthur tried to infuse his words with as much confidence as possible. Merlin burst out laughing anyway.

“You do _transcription_ for fun? Do you also like getting teeth pulled?”

“It’s not just transcription,” Arthur said defensively. “There’s also fact-checking.” He could feel his face heating up. Merlin must have seen something in Arthur’s expression, because he held up his hands placatingly.

“Sorry, if you really do enjoy that—”

“I do,” Arthur said tightly. He knew he was lying, and he knew Merlin knew that he was lying, and he knew that Merlin knew that Arthur knew that Merlin knew he was lying. “I’m sorry if I seem pathetic to you.”

“Not pathetic,” Merlin said quietly. “Just sad.” 

“I don’t _have_ to do data entry,” said Arthur, not sure why he was defending himself to this stranger. “I have a law degree.”

“So you do drone work because…”

“It’s not just drone work! Do you know how many errors I catch?” The more Arthur talked, the more he wished he could make himself shut up. He sounded ridiculous and boring, and he hated himself.

“Okay,” said Merlin. Arthur didn’t like the way he was being looked at, though. Maybe it wasn’t pity, but it was definitely something. Just then, a particularly loud clap of thunder crashed down, and Arthur instinctively leapt forward, pressing his hands over his ears.

“Sorry,” he muttered, straightening back up and trying to ignore his heart, which had started pounding all over again. 

Merlin spread his hands. “Totally okay.”

“So…I guess you like reading a lot,” Arthur said.

“More than anything,” Merlin said immediately. He looked embarrassed, then, as if he’d been too enthusiastic. “My mum always read to me when I was a kid, and I guess I got it from her.” 

“My mum too,” said Arthur.

“But you don’t read anymore?”

“Not since she died.” _Pull yourself together, Pendragon._ Then, unsure why he was saying all this but unable to stop: “After the accident, my father blocked off the library. Nobody’s been in there for years.”

“Wait,” said Merlin, “I’m not sure I follow. Your mother died, so your father blocked off the library?”

“My mum was the one who liked reading,” said Arthur. “The library was her favorite room. My father doesn’t like reminders of what he’s lost.”

“And neither do you,” said Merlin.

“No.”

They both looked at the table. 

“Do you think you might like to start reading again?” said Merlin. 

Arthur laughed, humorlessly. “Merlin, it’s a waste of time for me. I can’t ignore the world. I have responsibilities.” 

“Like data entry?” said Merlin.

Arthur flushed. “Do you know who I am?” he demanded. “I’m _Arthur Pendragon_. I don’t have time for daydreams and fantasies.” His stomach dropped; playing the name card was a sign he’d lost. But Merlin just looked confused.

“Er…am I supposed to know that name?” said Merlin. 

“Are you serious?” said Arthur. “The Pendragons?” At Merlin’s blank look, he said, “Pendragon, Orkney, and Fay?”

“The law firm?” said Merlin. “Wait…Arthur Pendragon. Your father is Uther Pendragon? Didn’t he just win a big case or something?”

“The Avalon strangler,” said Arthur. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, I get it now,” said Merlin. “Your father is a lawyer, so you don’t have time to read. I understand.” He raised his eyebrows sarcastically.

Another lightning crash, but, this time, Arthur got away with a small cringe. “Once you get out of the habit of reading, it doesn’t come back,” he said when he could talk again. “It’s not like I don’t try. I do, all the time. But it never works.”

“Let’s make it work,” Merlin said determinedly, and stood up. Arthur looked at him.

“What?”

“The storm isn’t stopping for another few hours,” said Merlin, “so we have plenty of time to find you the perfect book.”

Arthur felt a little sick. “I don’t want the perfect book.” But Merlin had already gone through the door into the store.

“Okay,” said Merlin, when Arthur joined him. “What books did your mum read to you when you were a kid?”

“Uh, Narnia, I think. The Oz books. Could we stay away from fantasy?” Arthur didn’t think he could handle that.  

“Absolutely,” said Merlin. “We don’t even have to stick with fiction. Do you have _any_ hobbies at all?”

“It’s embarrassing,” said Arthur, looking away. 

“Listen, mate, you’re talking to the guy who played with Barbies until he was twelve,” said Merlin. 

“No, you don’t understand. When I say embarrassing, I mean really, really embarrassing.” Arthur took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. “MysisterMorganaandIjoustatRenaissanceFaires.”

Merlin started to laugh. “You what? I didn’t catch that.”

“My sister Morgana and I joust at Renaissance Faires,” Arthur gritted out. Merlin had to clutch a bookcase, he was laughing so hard.

“You don’t want to read fantasy, but you _joust_?”

“It’s historical!” Arthur protested. “And we’re quite good at it, thank you very much.” 

Merlin put up his hands. “I believe you, don’t worry. Sorry, it’s just, I wasn’t expecting this from you.” He shook his head, grinning. “So do you want histories, then? Maybe something on the Renaissance or the Middle Ages?” 

“I guess,” said Arthur. 

“Perfect! Wait here.” Merlin disappeared between some shelves, and came back with his arms full. “I threw in some books on the Classical era, too.” He put them down on the tiny table by the armchairs. Arthur sorted through them suspiciously.

“Oh,” he said. “There’s a whole book on tourneys?” He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. He had to admit, it looked interesting. “My father taught me how to joust, but we never really read about it.” 

“Your father hates books, but loves jousting?” said Merlin. “I would have thought someone like that would pick a more mainstream sport. Golf or something.”

“We used to go in disguise,” said Arthur. “Top secrecy. No one could know that Uther Pendragon went to Renaissance Faires.” He smiled a bit, remembering. “He never let Morgana enter. But one year, she separated from us and entered the tourney. Beat half the men there.”

“She sounds amazing,” said Merlin.

“Don’t tell her I said so, but she is.” Arthur stroked the book’s spine as he remembered. “After my mother died, my father refused to talk about her. But Morgana knew what it was like because she lost her own mother—we’re half siblings—and she helped me when no one else did. It was different, though. It wasn’t Morgana’s fault her mother died.”

“And it was your fault?” said Merlin, sounding incredulous. 

“I was six,” said Arthur. “We were in the car on the way home from school, and I made her stop at the bookstore.” His eyes burned, and he closed them. “If we hadn’t stopped, we would have made it back before the storm started.”

“Arthur—” said Merlin, but Arthur couldn’t stop.

“I don’t remember the crash. I’m told we skidded on the wet asphalt and hit the guard rail head-on. I was strapped safely into the back seat. My mother wasn’t so lucky.”

“God,” said Merlin. 

Arthur sighed heavily. “I know.”

“That’s terrible, truly. I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“Me too.” 

“Wait a second, I’ll be right back.” Distantly, Arthur heard Merlin pad off into the shop. He took the opportunity to calm his breathing and blink the tears out of his eyes. “Here,” said Merlin when he got back. “I think this might help you.” He was holding a thick, deeply read book. Its spine was held together with tape, its pages warped from water damage, and its cover creased. 

“ _Grief and Guilt in the Child’s Mind_ ,” Arthur read out loud. “Dr. Gaius Richards, PhD.”

“That’s my uncle,” said Merlin. “The one who owns the shop. My mum died when I was nine, and he took me in. He’d already retired from psychology, but he wrote this book for me. To help me. And I think it might help you.”

Arthur swallowed a lump in his throat. He was oddly touched. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”

“And I’m sorry to hear about yours,” said Merlin. They looked at each other.

“Thanks,” said Arthur. “For helping me.” 

Merlin’s face lit up. “Of course. You know, you can come back any time. You don’t even have to buy anything.”

“Yeah,” said Arthur. “I…I’d like that.” They smiled at each other, and for the first time since the storm started, Arthur felt completely at peace.

 


End file.
